by Jason Luthor
My mouth drops. “What? They don’t . . . they don’t talk to each other? About what she does?”
“No one in Science is allowed to talk about the specifics of what they do,” he says, leaning in at me. “You know that, though.”
“Dad . . .”
“Precisely. You know he and your mother chose to live on Level 4. Because of the sensitivity of their work, they would have been first choice for Level 1, but your father always was a bit of an unusual one. We knew that from the start, but he always complied with the rules so we had no reason to ever intervene in his life. His first violation of any Tower rule was, indeed, his rescue attempt of you.” Pygmalion smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “A man, a society, we are only what we know and remember. Even marriages are built on a single thing: knowledge. Interrupt that balance in an individual, a relationship, or an institution, and it can come crumbling down. We are the only people of our species, Jackie. This institution, this tower, cannot crumble.”
Pygmalion pauses and tucks his hands behind his back. “If we remembered what we did? It might destroy us. All we know is that as long as the memory of those days is gone, no one can be held responsible. The knowledge, the memory of it, would change who we are as a people. Why? Because memory defines what we are as well as how we perceive those around us.” He walks back toward the desk and sits down, heaving a heavy breath. “I’ve had many years to think about that.”
“And you can live with those answers?” I ask. My face feels like it’s been soaking in a bowl of hot water.
“Can I live with them?” He looks away, to the wall. “I have. For years. For decades. After all, it was due to just that ability that I was chosen by the last director. While jobs are chosen almost entirely by the council, there is one single job outside their jurisdiction. Only the director can choose his successor. Only we have the knowledge necessary to make the decision.”
By this point my hands are shaking. I can feel them trembling on my knees, and I look down, trying to stop them. I can’t deal. “This is so sick, man. You’re just up here living in this luxury getting anything you want, and you . . . you just watch these things, like they’re nothing! These Reinforcements. These people dying on the Scavenging. You never try and stop it.”
“Throw the Tower out of balance, and the Tower falls,” he says. “Even I am a prisoner of another sort. I cannot usually intervene in the actions of the Tower. That’s why there is a council. They perform the Reinforcements for the people of Level 1, they run the Scavenging to entertain the Tower, and so on. They come to me mostly for counsel with novel situations. That is my purpose, my function, in this tower. Everyone’s knowledge is limited as much as possible to their circumstances. I am the only one whose knowledge is broad, and so, when circumstances are new or unique, they send me a request.” He taps the desk in front of him, and a keyboard appears, shining with light through the white surface. “They don’t even bother to come see me. They simply send a request by mail. During the last Category 2 Incident, they asked me how to contain it. During this one with Sally, they again came to me. I recommended working with you and even suggested your father’s plan to them. A director is expected to have just a slight capacity for prediction.”
He pauses, laughing. “When Abbott didn’t know whether to concede to your father’s demands, they allowed me to make the call. As you can see, I’m quite the novelty piece. You are, in fact, my first physical visitor in many years. I am known only to a few, and even they view me with suspicion and fear. They especially fear me when I decide to intervene, and that fear is so great it could easily tip the balance on Floor 1. Yet they know it is their role to bend to me. However, ask them to bend too much, and the relationship between the council and I would break.”
“Fine, I get it. You’re some supersecret observer that has to act like a backup because everyone else is so stuck in their own roles or work that they can’t figure out how to react to new circumstances. God, it’s like taking care of children. So, why am I really here then? Why did you call me up? What, are you choosing me as the new director or something?”
“You?” He laughs really loud at the suggestion. Insultingly loud. “Do you really think you could keep all this a secret?”
The director’s got me there. “Well, no. I might be able to do it for . . . I dunno . . . a year?”
“I doubt even that, Jackie. No, what you are here for is something else. You are here because we’ve had two Category 2 Incidents almost a year apart from each other. They’re becoming more frequent.” He stops and looks down at the desk, his eyes dancing around for a second. “No. That’s a lie. That’s not the reason. It’s just an excuse I’m telling myself, and you.”
“Okay. Well, what then? You just want someone to talk to or something?”
“Not at all.” His words are coming slowly. Seriously, I think he’s about to tell me he’s about to have a heart attack or something, and I clutch up for a second. “The reason you’re here is because I’m going to grant your request.” Edward’s eyes crawl back up to mine. “I’ve chosen you to be a Scavenger.”
“What?” In my head the words echo around like they’re being blasted through a megaphone. “You want me to do what . . . ?”
“I saw you fighting, Jackie. For someone with such little training, your natural skill is exceptional. Your mind is incredibly sharp and can potentially rival your father’s. The Scavengers need that.” His hand lifts up, and he sighs. “And things will have to change. The Scavenging will have to change. I’ll sell that to the council, though. I’ll tell them that the reason we’re changing the Scavenging is because we need new ways of entertaining the population, especially on Floor 1. We’re going to shift the Scavenging’s focus from reclaiming material from the lower floors to exploration. To going as deep down Tower Pisa as possible.”
For a minute I just sit there, looking at this guy. He’s just freaking me out now. So, I’m sounding like a broken record, but what else am I supposed to ask? “Why are you doing this?” is about all I can manage at first. Like I’m an idiot. “I just, I can’t . . . You just got done telling me all this stuff about how you can’t tip the balance, can’t destroy the institution, this Tower shall not fall, blah blah blah. Now you’re completely changing the direction.”
Pygmalion smiles, pointing to me. “I also told you that memories make us. Memories are the most powerful form of knowledge. And that, in the end, there will be those who are unbothered by the sins they are guilty of, and those who are.”
“Right. So . . .”
“So, the man that I was when I became director was content with holding the bloody knife. The man I have become, and his many years of knowledge and observations, is not.”
I just stare at him from across the table, and there’s just this tiny . . . and I mean miniscule . . . part of me that starts to feel bad for him. “So, what you’ve learned changed who you are.”
“And what I’ve seen. Because all I’ve seen, all those memories, have created the man that stands before you.” He laughs. “I’ve spent decades watching the world. Now, before the end, I want to impact it, even if that impact is small. The director I choose to follow me may learn from what I have done. The memories of my actions may help mold him into a different man than I. Hopefully a man with a bit more boldness that I lack.”
“So, what is it you want me to do?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Pygmalion gets this devilish smile on his face. “I want you to get out. It’s the only way I know of that could change the Tower without destroying it. If we knew there was an escape.”
“And if we can’t?” I ask, thinking back on how hard it was to take Sally down.
“Then I suppose we’ll just continue on like we always have. For as long as possible.”
There’s no easy way to react to this. He’s offering me something I’ve wanted my entire life, but that was before I knew it was just entertainment for a bunch of snot-nosed rich jerks on Floor 1. Plus, how d
o I even know I can trust this guy?
Thing is, I know there’s only one answer.
“Fine,” I say, looking up at the ceiling and hoping I’m not nuts for agreeing. “I’ll do it.”
“I knew you would,” he says, bowing his head. “As I said, it is part of my job to be predictive, although there was always a slight doubt.”
“So, what now?”
“Now? Now you and your father go home. Now I have the audio listeners removed from your room. And tomorrow, you start getting ready. You start getting ready for the Scavenging.”
There’s something about that. Something about how he says it. I just . . . I have to smile.
“Yeah . . . yeah, okay. This is . . . this is great.”
“Is there anything else before you go?”
“Actually, yeah,” I say, my mind racing as I think about what’s coming next. “You don’t happen to know what happened to a guy named Mike, do you? He was part of the last Scavenging.”
“I am aware of him. Unfortunately, even as great as my knowledge is, it’s not infinite. All contact with the team was lost following an incident deep inside the Tower. I could not tell you whether he’s alive or not.”
“Oh.” Dammit. “Okay, that’s . . . that’s okay. Is it all right if I make part of the exploration a search for them? For Mike and his team?”
“Hm. A rescue story? That would certainly please viewers. Yes, I think that would work. The council would be even more willing to approve that. We’ll call it the Second Scavenging.” He shakes his head, tapping on the desk. “A wonderful idea. Yes, Jackie. I’ll make sure it’s all approved. And believe me, as callous as I may sound, I do hope with all my heart that you find your friend.”
I’m biting my lip as I nod, and then I just kinda get up to go. I don’t have anything else to say as I shuffle off beneath the lights of images broadcasting down on me from throughout Tower Pisa. Huh. Tower Pisa. For the first time in my life, I know what this place is called. Anyway, I’m just starting to put my hand to the door when I hesitate and look back toward the director. Pygmalion’s already working at something on his desk when I interrupt him with a final call. “Director? Edward?”
He looks up from his work, like he’s surprised that I’m still here. “Oh? Yes, Jackie?”
For a second I don’t know whether to ask it, but I have to. “I’m just . . . I was just wondering. You’ve got eyes all over the Tower, right?” I pause one more time before I ask. “So, what are the Angels?”
Pygmalion laughs and looks back down at his work. “Jackie,” he says, “you should know better. Angels don’t exist.”
Recording Forty-Three
It took exactly one day for the Morale officers to have flyers pasted up and down every floor proclaiming “The Second Scavenging,” starring the first girl from Floor 4 to ever go on a mission. Better? It was to be a daring rescue into the bowels of the Tower to find the last scavenging team.
Whatevs.
But . . . I kinda liked it.
Don’t get me wrong. Mom and Dad aren’t thrilled . . . but I think they kinda knew, somehow, that it’d always turn out weird with me. I have a pair of weirdos for parents in the first place, so, of course, I turned out the same way. Dad’s a little less worried than Mom. He says my batting skills are gonna come in handy.
I don’t know about all that.
Funny thing, though. I decided I really am going to take that bat. I named it Lil’ Slugger just because I’m a cheeseball like that.
Jokes aside . . . it’s pretty freaking serious business. I’m about to go into a two-week training course. They say they’re gonna build on everything I learned in the basic combat training we all get, so, who knows, I may turn out to be a real beast. Maybe even tougher than Janet Amato.
I don’t know. There’s a lot of things I don’t know.
I do know that in a little over two weeks, we’re expected to head down. I’ll be going with Abbott, who is still a major pain in my . . . well, I shouldn’t insult him since he’s gonna, you know, be my commander. But, that’s cool. I’ll put up with it. I’m heading into the Creep with a bunch of vets, plus a few rookies, if I understand it all. They say they’re not too worried about the psychological aspect with me.
Remember, I’m the girl that would go down into the lower levels for fun, not to mention batted the head almost clean off of Creepy Sally. I got some guts.
It’s weird, though. It was just a few weeks ago that I was recording these things to keep my sanity. Now . . . I dunno. What you leave behind is important. It reminds you what you are, or were. It helps you know who you are, or want to be. And you never know, maybe someone else comes along one day and learns from you.
Psh. That’s way too deep for me right now.
I’ve got more important things to think about at the moment. Like, I need to get my hair braided. It’s a bit too natural for my liking at this second, so it’s basically everywhere. That mess just isn’t going to work in the Deep Creep. Never know when something’s going to grab at you, right? So, I don’t need my hair making me an easy target. Anyway, after that, I feel like I should, I dunno, spend time with Allison. I know I can’t really tell her anything . . . but, dang. Maybe I really should just, you know, have one more dance party with her.
I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again once I go. And suddenly the experiences I take with me seem more important than ever.
Man. I kinda feel . . . I dunno . . . scared . . . depressed . . . something.
Change can be scary.
But this is it. I’ve been asking for it, one chance to see what’s out there. If we’re the only ones. Now it’s coming true, and I can’t stop thinking about my life here.
Life’s funny like that.
Anyway, I don’t know if I’ll be able to record much anymore. I mean, I’m going to be training, then there’s the whole situation of being dozens of stories down inside of living muscle tissue. Not exactly lots of time to record, I’m guessing.
Not that I know for sure.
You know, I remembered something today. I hadn’t thought of it in a while. I’m glad I did. It reminds me of why I’m here, at this point in my life, in the first place. Actually reminds me that it has a lot to do with my parents and how they turned out to be, well, the people I remembered.
I was with my dad and mom, and I must have been around eleven at the time. Guess it doesn’t make much of a difference. Anyway, we’re at the baseball field on Floor 9. The big lights are glaring overhead. We’re there early, before anyone else, and Mom’s behind home plate. Dad’s on the pitching mound, and he winds up. Guy throws the quickest fastball I’ve ever seen.
Thing is, when I swing the baseball bat . . . I connect. Ball goes flying until it bangs off the back wall and goes bouncing into the outfield. Mom and Dad freak. I mean, they just completely lose their heads. Dad runs over to me, and him and Mom are just, you know, being parents. They’re hugging me and jumping. I’d never hit a home run before.
Mom drops down behind me and squeezes my shoulders. “That’s amazing! You’re going to be so great when you get older!”
Then Dad takes a knee and slides off his only “NY” baseball cap. He slaps it on my head and pulls it until it’s snug on my skull. Goofball’s just smiling like he’s nuts. “Knock ’em out of the park, Jackie.”
Yeah . . . I will, guys. I’m going to make you proud of me.
I’m a Scavenger now.
So, Mike? If you’re down there in the Tower? I’m coming. It’s my turn to save you.
And then?
Then we find out what’s down there.
Way past Floor 21.
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